The End of an Era

October 3, 2008

Dear Family,

Sorry to be the bearer of sad news, but Aunt Elise died this morning about 3:00 am. She was mom's oldest sister, ten years older than mom, I think, so she was 88 years old. It feels like the end of an era, to me. First we lost Grandma Johnson eight years ago. Then Aunt Elise's husband, Uncle Eddie died, then this summer Aunt Ejvor's husband, Uncle Leo. Our family is fading away.

So is dad, I'm afraid. We pick him up every morning and drive him to his house, where he sits in a chair all day while mom feeds and cares for him, then we take him back to the rest home in the evening. Most of the time he hardly seems to notice what is going on.

The other day I tried to talk to dad as I drove him to mom's house. He just stared out the window, not looking at anything, just forward. My heart broke as I looked at his profile. It has changed so much over the past few months. His cheeks are sunken, his eyes are hollow, and there is no spark of recognition left in them.

“Where is dad?” I couldn't help wonder as I drove. Is his spirit still there, trapped in his body? I suppose so, because he would be dead otherwise. Just the same, I couldn't help wonder what, if anything, his spirit was thinking and doing while his mind was vacant. Would he know, sometime after he dies, what went on around him now?

“I love you, dad,” I told him through my tears. “You were the best dad any girl ever had, and I love you so much! If you can hear me, wherever you are now, I sure want you to know how lucky I know I am to have had you for my father, and how thankful I am to you for all the things you taught me, all the things you did for me, and for loving me.”

I couldn't go on after that. I had to pull myself together so I could drive straight and not run into anything. I don't know if dad heard me or not. He never gave any sign of it. But I know that someday, someplace after we have both left this world far behind, I will get to tell him again how much I love him. And I know that each of you will have that same chance. We are a forever family, sealed to each other for eternity. Just because we are apart now, and dad's mind is far away, doesn't change anything. Thank goodness for the blessings of the priesthood, and for the power it has to seal our family forever.

I love you, all.

Aunt Gale

Coke or Ice Cream

Our family seldom ate out.  Once in a great while Mom had Dad pick up a sack of hamburgers at a little cafe near our house and we ate them at home, but the only time we ever went to a restaurant was when one of us kids turned eight and we were baptized.  Then we would go to Bob’s Big Boy Restaurant, on the corner of Main and

Alma School Road

in Mesa.  Dad would always tell us about how he had milked cows in that same spot when he was a kid.  His grandparents homesteaded that corner, and it was where he and his mother were both born.

One of the fun things about going to the cabin was getting to stop at a little drive-in restaurant in Payson to get a soft serve ice-cream cone.  We looked forward to that treat, and were always cross if we had to drive the long way up to the cabin, through Globe.  There were no ice cream drive-ins there.

One trip Grandma and Grandpa Russell rode up to the cabin with us.  We were happy to have them come, and they wanted to do something special for us in return.  Grandma suggested Dad stop at a little grocery store in Payson to pick up a few things they needed, and she bought Drum Sticks (you know, the packaged frozen ice cream cones they sell in grocery stores) for all of us.  It was really, really nice of her, but us kids were not gracious.  We grumbled and frowned all the way to the cabin, cross that we didn't get to stop at the drive in for our anticipated treat. 

One late summer afternoon we stopped at the little cafe on our way home from the cabin.  We were in the camper, and it wouldn’t fit under the porch outside the drive up window, so Dad sent Phillip to get the ice cream cones while the rest of us waited in the camper.  When he came back he was carrying eight glasses of coke.

He had asked for eight cones, but the check out girl hadn’t heard him right.  She thought he asked for cokes.  Phillip was too embarrassed to tell the girl she was wrong, so he just took the drinks and brought them out to the camper.  Now what were we going to do?

Dad said he didn’t have any more money to buy ice cream, and we didn’t drink coke because of the caffeine.  We were all hot and tired and cross about the mistake.  It’s funny, but we all remember what happened next differently.  Perhaps Dad told us to go ahead and drink the coke, or maybe Mom told us to pour the pop out and eat the ice.  Whatever they said, I poured my coke out, I was always a goody-goody, but I was sure cross about it.  Not only didn't I get my longed for ice cream, I didn't even have a good drink.  I remember sitting in the back of the camper, pouting, trying to suck on the cold ice, and almost gagging because it still tasted like coke.  Who, after all, could possibly like that flavor?